Ficlet Collection
by scully-hearts-roslin
Summary: This is a collection of 22 different Laura Roslin ficlets. Some are funny, others romantic, steamy, angsty, silly, sad or dramatic. Characters included are Bill Adama, Doc Cottle, the Tighs, Tom Zarek and President Adar.
1. A Touch

**Disclaimer: **BSG is not mine - but I understand where Laura is coming from. **Characters:** Doc Cottle, Laura Roslin.  
**Warning: **Do not read if you hate cancer stories - though this isn't dwelling in Laura's cancer or anything remotely like that.

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**A Touch**

Laura wakes to the feeling of hands underneath her legs. Arms wrapping around her, grabbing her. A feeling of warmth.

A scent. Familiar and close – comforting. Something she is used to. A presence. Someone – gentle and strong.

She smiles at the sound of her name on his lips. However distant.

Leaning against his shoulders, her head feels light and safe. Home.

Flickering lights interrupting a colorful dream, burning in her eyes. Pounding, her head, heavy as steal.

"Welcome back, young lady." The grumpy face of Doctor Cottle greets her, enveloped by smoke.

Lips dry, blood rushing through narrow veins, Laura feels the weight of every single bone tying her to the bed.

A hand, caring but rough, eases the pain.

"Remember what I told you about taking Chamalla during Diloxin treatments? Hit you out of the blue I understand," the doctor grumbles. "Should thank the Gods that the Admiral was with you to break your fall."

Fogged memories merging with blurry vision as sleep lulls her in. Fatigue winning over, rest pivotal but scarce.

Lights, continuing to pierce her eyes. Sounds, high-pitched, shrieking – hurting her ears. Teeth aching. Heart racing. Blood throbbing. Legs heavy and sensitive.

The brushing of his fingertips against her cheeks, a distant feeling of pain merging into a caress.

She forces her eyes to open, feeling his eyes on her. Melting with her dry once sparkling green, his teary blue find ground for joy.

"She's awake! Doctor! She's awake!"

Nurses rushing. Smoke announcing the doctor's arrival. Monitors beeping. The world shutting in and out for her. Steadiness only in his everything. The supporting grip of his palm around her exhausted hand at the pinching feeling of another needle entering her arm. The soft touch of his lips to her pale skin – his tear of sorrow merging with hers of agony and nausea.

Another drift-away – and still no rest. Lights softer. Sounds less thumping. Bones lighter.

And a scream.

The voice distant yet familiar to her ears when the sound waves come back to her.

Pain.

She grabs her chest, tears shooting out of her eyes – her head pressed into her pillow. Arms too much. Voices in a blur. Eyes seeing her as an object – all but two, concerned and calm.

Holding her, his arms ease the pain more than the drugs. Numbness ruling now. Finding strength in his touch, Laura is not afraid of the lights anymore.

"Are you feeling better?" His voice is low and soft.

A nod. Her blood not noticeably running through her body anymore.

"You've been here all the time?"

"It's only been a couple of hours, you know."

"Felt like days." Laura moans.

Moving her hand to his lips, he kisses her fingers – individually, soft and with care.

"I know."

And a kiss becomes a promise for another tomorrow.


	2. Against All Odds

**Pairing:** Roslin/Adar. **Setting/Summary:** Richard's story & thoughts after Laura has left to head to Galactica.

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**Against All Odds**

He looked after her when she closed the door, her head held up high in both, pride and rage. There was a sadness in her eyes when she left, hesitation in the way she walked – Richard wished he had just made her stop, wished he had gotten up from behind his desk, had pulled her close and asked why. The band aid on her hand, he didn't even know what it meant – he cursed himself. Two days since she had left, two days of agonizing over what had been said. "I know you've been thinking this is a mistake for a while now." The look on her face, the touch of her lips, so tender before she danced with him through another passionate kiss. So good to feel her pressed against him, his hands on her waist and butt before his arms wrapped around her to pull her even closer. Her hand on his chest before she welcomed his embrace – he knew she wanted him. Maybe he just wanted her more. Richard frowned. One more day until she would be back.

When the first detonation shook his bones, he was surrounded by panic, fear and noise within seconds. Dragged out of his office, the worlds seemed to go down in slow motion around him. Voices distant, eyes looking at him for leadership and advice. His head was spinning. Cylon attacks. He closed his eyes. No offer he made stopped the frenzy. Surrender – he heard her voice so clearly in his head now. It didn't help.

He sat in his shelter, tears dropping silently from his face, pictures of her face haunting him wherever he looked. The shock so evident in her soulful eyes when he asked her to resign. How he wanted to take them back, those words spoken in the heat of the moment. He shook his head. He wanted to say so much to her now, wanted to feel her in his arms, his hand in her hair, her breath on his skin. He mourned her, a sparkle of hope still stubborn and clinging to the chance that she had made it and would come back.

The death of his family left him shell-shocked, the thought of never kissing her again, of never seeing her smile again, so beautiful when she was in his embrace, it shook him with grief.

It was her signal coming through a half-broken transmitter that made him die in peace when the Cylons shot him without mercy. Her face, the sweet smell of her, her laughter and a moan to his touch the last thoughts he had in his mind - her name the last word that fell from his lips.

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**slightly inspired by a song by Phil Collins:**

_How can i just let you walk away, just let you leave without a trace_  
_When i stand here taking every breath with you, ooh_  
_You're the only one who really knew me at all_

_How can you just walk away from me,_  
_When all i can do is watch you leave_  
_Cos we've shared the laughter and the pain and even shared the tears_  
_You're the only one who really knew me at all_

_So take a look at me now, oh there's just an empty space_  
_And there's nothing left here to remind me,_  
_Just the memory of your face_  
_Ooh take a look at me now, well there's just an empty space_  
_And you coming back to me is against all odds and that's what i've got to face_

_I wish i could just make you turn around,_  
_Turn around and see me cry_  
_There's so much i need to say to you,_  
_So many reasons why_  
_You're the only one who really knew me at all_

_So take a look at me now, well there's just an empty space_  
_And there's nothing left here to remind me, just the memory of your face_  
_Now take a look at me now, cos there's just an empty space_

_But to wait for you, is all i can do and that's what i've got to face_  
_Take a good look at me now, cos i'll still be standing here_  
_And you coming back to me is against all odds_  
_It's the chance i've gotta take_

_Take a look at me now_


	3. Birthday Surprises

******Disclaimer: **BSG is not mine.**Characters: **A/R

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**Birthday Surprises**  
_  
His birthday_.

Bill hated his birthdays - especially after the apocalypse. No reason to be cheerful. No reason to sing. No cake.

Having dragged himself through a day of congratulations in-between nugget frak-ups, jumps and tactical training, Bill was now happy to close the door to his quarters. Closing the hatch, locking it from the inside, he felt relieved to shut out the world that was left.

Pouring himself a glass of Ambrosia, he loosened the buttons of his uniform and made himself comfortable on his couch. Stretching his limbs, he rested his head on the soft leather when he heard the sound of muffled footsteps.  
Opening his eyes after too short a rest, he met the amused face of Laura Roslin.

Laura, all woman, no presidency attached, shot him a seductive smile when she reached for the bows that held her nightgown together. Pulling at them, the nightgown dropped to the floor in what seemed slow motion to Bill.

Still processing the fact that she had sneaked into his quarters and hidden herself to surprise him, he heard how she whispered a hoarse _Happy Birthday_ to him when she approached him. Lowering herself onto his lap, she giggled at the way his eyes caressed her naked form and pulled him into a lingering kiss.

Lying her down on the couch to explore & properly enjoy his _gift_, Bill whispered a low _so much better than cake_ onto her skin. Moaning in response to his tender treatment, she giggled some more - her voice deep and reduced to a whimper.  
_I thought so_, she managed to whisper in-between labored breaths when she freed him from his clothes, proving that she was, after all, a better lover than baker.


	4. A Simple Question

**Disclaimer:** Laura feels comfy living in my head. And sometimes Bill comes to visit. **Pairing:** A/R

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**A Simple Question**

„_Are you happy?" _

His words rang in her ears, perpetually.

"_Are you happy, Laura?" _

His voice, stern and sincere – his eyes flooded with emotion.

He meant it.

It wasn't a random question or something he would let pass. He cared – and he wanted to know.

"_Define happy." _

Her answer was evasive. And she knew that it was.

Her smile was accordingly – apologetic, shying away from him.

"_Do you wake up with a smile? Do you sing in the shower? Is your heart dancing with life?"_

His openness overwhelmed her.

He often did. But this came unexpected, in the middle of their weekly discussion of fleet supplies and fuel problems.

"_It sounds as if you are happy."_

It was supposed to be a statement, and yet, it was so much more.

Her voice barely above a whisper, she tried to hide behind her arms folded in front of her chest.

"_I am."_

His smile. It meant so much more than the simplicity of those two words that came along with it. A smile blossoming from his heart, smiled for her alone.

Putting the reports aside, Bill moved closer to her on the couch. He held out his hand, inviting her to rest her shaking one in his for reassurance.

Laura, hesitant to accept his offer, found her body betraying her by doing so – and the sensation of his tender touch against her delicate hand was more than soothing.

She smiled – the shyness still evident, a smile born out of true emotion rather than tactical maneuvering.

Holding her hand, Bill allowed his thumb to caress her sensitive skin – very lightly so. And his voice dropped a level, his eyes melted with hers and he managed to let the world dissolve around her.

"_I want you to be happy, Laura."_

His other hand moved to her neck, the thumb of his left hand gently caressing her cheek as he leaned in to place a tender kiss onto her trembling lips.

Welcoming his closeness, Laura shut her eyes and leaned in to him - carefully so, her feelings mixed and confusing.

She felt his tongue parting her lips with a tenderness that startled her into obliging him, and she moaned when he captured her mouth with everything that he was.

He was giving himself to her – a gift on a silver platter, rare and exquisite. A treasure. A promise. A vow.

She clang to him when he parted from her – the feeling of his heart beating against her chest was too inviting for her to allow it to slip away again. So she slid her arms around him, her body's reaction two steps ahead of her mind – her legs tugged underneath her, her lips finding a comfortable position on his neck. The way he smelled, the taste of him like sugar on her lips – home.

"_Make me happy."_

Her lips vibrated against his scruffy skin.

"_I want to be happy."_

And finally she knew what it meant.

The sound of his voice echoing the lightness of his soul – words unnecessary to express the love that was so evident between them now.

Hands undressing, eyes exploring, mouths tasting – they had danced around this moment before and they fully embraced it now that it was finally here.

When he lowered himself on her, she indulged in the feeling of leather against her naked back and his warm skin against her breasts.

How she had missed intimacy.

And she tilted her head when he sought permission to merge with her, preparing herself to be one with the man who had slowly danced his way into her heart.

They lay together, entangled, in the aftermath of what was a commitment to a shared life. It was a silent consent, worth so much more than any wedding vow.

Happiness – and an agreement to hold on to it together.


	5. Pride

**Disclaimer: **BSG is not mine. **Characters:** Doctor Cottle (Bill Adama and Laura Roslin).

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**Pride  
**

Jack swallowed the gulp that threatened to form in his throat.

If she was strong enough to face the news, he would be. He _had_ to be. If not for her, at least for himself. Never had a patient challenged his objectivity and he would be damned if she ever found out that she was the first.

Walking towards her, Cottle put on his mask of grumpy and unaffected. He was all doctor - no emotions attached. Results in hand, he approached the med bed she was lying on, waiting. He saw the impatience in her eyes, and the fear.

If the Gods existed, he sometimes wished, they should have mercy with that woman – strong and altruistic as she was. She deserved better than to fight her foes on so many grounds, with a blindfold on her eyes and no guide to help her through the darkness.

He swallowed again, to steady his voice and to announce the news he had.

Losing himself in her sparkling green eyes, detecting the tears that were forced back by her willful mind, he cleared his throat and showed her the chart.

"It's a stand-still." He managed to spill – his voice low and morose rather than concerned.

"No improvement then." She stated, all possible hope vanished from her face.

Admiral Adama, her faithful shoulder to lean on, took her hand. "But the cancer didn't spread."

Cottle nodded, suppressing his wish to ask the Admiral to leave.

"So this is good news." Bill kissed her hand.

Meeting his relief with a tired smile, Laura shook her head. "There is more." And she bore her eyes right into the doctor's soul, begging him to break the bad news.

Nodding again, Cottle answered her hardly below a whisper. "We seem to have grabbed the evil by its horns, but we are running out of medication. There is only so much Diloxin left for another two or three treatments, and according to present results this won't be enough."

Seeing the desperation in Bill Adama's eyes, darting up from the inside of his heart, he was astonished to find acceptance in Laura's face. Acceptance and peace.

"Well, then," she sat up and put her jacket on. "It's going to be me and the good old Chamalla again, I guess."

"Laura, you can't just..." Bill started to utter. But he was interrupted by an artificially chipper tone in her voice.

"I can't _what_, Bill?" Her eyes were now challenging and dark. "I cannot embrace the path that lies ahead of me, leaving me no choice but to face its bumpiness? What am I supposed to do but fight?"

_You could cry_, Cottle was tempted to say – but he merely looked at her, suppressing the urge to take her in his arms and force her to shout it out, to get it out of her system, to allow herself to fall.

Seeing the hurt expression on Bill's face disgusted him – and the helplessness that shone from his eyes fed the aggression towards the Admiral of the fleet ever since he had found out that he was also the President's lover.

"You should rest, Madame President." Cottle brought himself to say. It was a gruff order rather than a friendly remark. It was safer that way for he knew that all she needed right now was support and some down time. To find her doctor falling in love with her should not ever be any of her concerns.

"Oh, that's a good one, Jack." Laura mocked him – her voice dense and pitiless. "You should speak to Tory sometime."

"You do have a VP, you know." Bill interjected.

Shrugging him off with a wave of her hand and a mumbled _whatever_, she allowed him to take her arm and walk her towards the hatch. "See you Wednesday then?"

"See you Wednesday, Madame President." Cottle shook his head. "And don't try to kill yourself in the meantime."

He watched her leave, clinging to Bill's arm, wondering if she might allow herself to crush in front of him in the privacy of their quarters. He smiled – it was a sad smile, and the tears were almost too overwhelming to be suppressed.

Lightning a cigarette, he shook the emotions off like water from an umbrella – at least he forced himself to believe that it could be that easy.

He cared far too much for that patient of his – and it was getting harder to cope with what he feared to be love by each passing minute.


	6. Intermissions

**Disclaimer: **BSG is not mine but Laura occupies my mind and she has invited Richard to come play. **Pairing:** Roslin/Adar.

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**Intermissions**

A touch. His hand on her skin. Goosebumps on her arms, she shivers. The warmth of his body like a blanket when he covers her to kiss her neck. His lips so soft when they nuzzle her jaw line and her ear. A moan, merging with his to form a melody that is uniquely theirs. Sweat on her belly, her hair a pillow for her and him on top. A caress, his tongue on her breasts, his palms on her thighs - Laura closes her eyes. He makes her high on love, makes her yearn for more when he whispers words against her skin – thinks she's beautiful, loves her so much, wants her so bad – it's letting her drown in appreciation. A kiss on her lips, his tongue probes her, his fingers massage her core. A gasp when he hits a spot he knows she likes, her reaction faster than usual. He buries his face between her legs to please her, kisses her again to taste everything she is willing to share with him. When he pushes into her he moans her name, his voice so deep it shakes her bones. When he moves, he finds a rhythm with her, singing the tune they love to hum out loud. His name on her lips, gasps staccato-like, they thank the Gods when pleasure overwhelms them. Anticipation such a passionate dance, the wave of release so much more than a quick intermission.

She lies in his arms, feels his breath steadying after he collapses on her - he never crushes her, she never lets him go too soon. It is quiet moments like these they are living for.

He likes to arouse himself by watching her, she needs a smile from him and a brush of his hand against her skin. There was a time when they used to have sex, now it is love. She misses him in lonely nights, he misses her whenever she is gone. A stolen kiss in his office, a dance in hers, his hand in her blouse, her mouth pleasuring him in what they call a private meeting – he has that way with her. She made him fall. Made him fall deeper than he ever knew he could.

Such an angel on the outside, she is a gifted lover within. Hands on him wherever he pleases, she knows how to make him beg for more. Her mouth so full and soft bears secrets he is glad to keep, her voice so rich when he makes her sing. He loves her. Loves what she does to him, loves her wish for more.

He talks her into staying when she wishes to leave, words vibrating against her skin when his lips pledge commitment to a union their bodies perform so easily. The scent of her desire - sweet, salty, hot and strong – overdose a calculated risk. But what better way to die than in her arms?

He smiles at her from across the desk when she flirts with him. She is ready to rock him quickly, to leave that taste in his mouth for more, that longing for a day of love and sweat and food in bed. She returns his smile with a promise for more. When she comes back to him he closes the door, wants to have her all to himself - her taste, her lust, her kiss. He sees the doubt, holds her close to make her feel his heart beating for her and his passion grown. She dances around a kiss with him like she sometimes does, nudges him, her tenderness so alluring. His mouth on hers then, his arms all around her, he welcomes her embrace. There it is, her tongue, so hungry for his. They fit.

He is surprised when she parts from him, finds her trembling, yearning for more of his love. His hands are faster than his mind, his fingers graze her wrist, gentle enough to stop her from walking away. When he sees the band aid on her hand, his eyes meet hers and he knows enough. His mouth covers hers faster than she can speak, his lips are frantic to feel her response. A tear makes him stop, so salty on his lips, so full of agony and fright - when he sits down to hear her story, his hands never let her go. She is shaking when she speaks the words, he holds her tight.

This is what he wishes he had done, so he tells her now, back from Galactica, determined but frail. His heart broken when she tells him her secret, he doesn't wait for her to approve – holding her, he cries bitter tears with her over a struggle behind and ahead. He apologizes in that way he has with her, he makes her blush with life. His fingers tease her, soft and firm, it is her pleasure now and his regret. He pulls her onto his lap, watches how she lives for him in a moment he wants to bottle. He loves away her fears for a moment of bliss, places kisses all over breasts that have given him so much pleasure and would give her so much pain. He is one with her when she comes, so beautiful to see her free. It is then that he vows to make it better, talks her back into staying once again but for her and not for him. She believes him when another wave hits her and she cries out his name - how could she not if what he gives her feels so good.


	7. Manage a Prez

**Disclaimer:** Idea is mine, characters are not - no infringement intended. **Character: **Laura (and her dream).

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**Menage A Prez**

Sweat was running down the side of her forehead and Laura still felt the breath of him on her skin when she turned to find some rest.

The picture of his body on top of her was still vivid in her mind – Saul. Her own lips, never revealing his name, were trembling at the wave of pleasure she was cooling from.

Feeling another set of hands on the sensitive skin on her back, Laura was too deep in the trance from her afterglow to resist the soft mouth that met hers for a tender kiss – Tory's tongue inviting her own to a dance of passion.

She moaned as the hands that caressed her were followed by the gentle roughness of Jack's lips on her back, sending shivers down her spine while feeling another set of hands skillfully massaging her feet and moving further up her legs - Laura opened her eyes for the shortness of moments to meet Tom's lusty gaze.

While hearing her own moans in response to the sinful treatment she was bound to enjoy, she felt the soft restraints on her wrists and the melting cream spread over her naked body.

When she woke, she jumped up, his arms keeping her from leaving the safety of his embrace. Shaking off the images of overwhelming pleasure, she answered his unvoiced concern with a kinky smile before she locked her mouth to his for a loving kiss. Bill.

Allowing his hands to explore her body, she encouraged his tender passion, plotting to replace her sexual dream images with memories of bliss with the man she loved.


	8. It Was One of Those Nights

**Disclaimer: **Still not owning it but loving BSG nonetheless. **Character:** Laura again (dreaming).

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**It Was One of Those Nights**

It was one of those nights – Laura was drifting in and out of sleep, dreams starting, getting funny, getting blurry. It had been a busy day and an even busier week, and her mind was so exhausted that she had gladly accepted Tory's offer to call it a night early today.

After tossing and turning, reading without grasping a single word her eyes had scanned, Laura had finally switched off the lights and tried to will herself to sleep. Her tired bones had welcomed the darkness and they had long stopped aching to the feeling of the makeshift mattress underneath.

A smile on her lips when another dream was over, a sigh and she was awake. Awake only long enough to turn to one side and drift off to sleep again to welcome another pleasant dream.

When she woke, it was too early for her to get up – 4am and minutes that were too few to count. Resisting switching on the lights, Laura closed her eyes again to linger in the after images of a warm Caprica, sunny and welcoming, better than reality had ever been.

She smiled. The smell of freshly mowed grass reaching her nose, the sound of soft wind caressing the trees surrounding her and her eyes enjoying the outlook from her mother's holiday home. The little lake, childhood memories coming back to her, college days, long summer nights and snowball fights.

And there it was, an image of him – Richard – far from the past. Young they were, and yet timeless, innocent even and free of burdens and pain. It was as if she saw an image of herself, a reflection of who she once thought she was. Falling into him, knowing he was committed to someone else, doubting her decision, reacting rather than thinking.

She turned in her sleep.

The fireplace, blankets on the couch, some wine – memories merged with dreams and movie plots and books. His naked chest pressed against the softness of her breasts, the feeling of losing herself in him, sounds and smells overwhelming her, her senses overloading – ecstacy, delight.

Laura woke again, slowly, warmth nestling in her heart and gut. Another smile on her lips, melancholy in a way and content. Images flickering before her eyes, the silence around her allowing her to focus on every single detail her mind reproduced for her. Sunlight on his skin, sweat on her breasts, the ticklish feeling of his tongue travelling all over her. Her hand moved over her body, trying to find the path he had once enjoyed to follow – memories and dreams merging with newborn arousal and a long lost longing for release.

When she touched herself, careful but firm, she resisted to sigh his name – like a shadow from a past long gone, he served as a trigger for something she felt building up inside. Her core shaking, her body trembling, Laura raised her hips and allowed a moan to escape her lips when the wave began to overcome her. A wave of slow pleasure, rising and falling, threatening to die just to come back bigger and faster than expected. Another build-up, another high – her cheeks blushed, her lips dry. Her body cooling down, Laura dozed off again, satisfied and happy – a new morning welcomed now. Energy from lust.


	9. Sandbags on New Caprica

**Disclaimer:** BSG is still not mine. **Pairing:** A/R.

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**Sandbags on New Caprica**

Laura enjoyed the warmth of his body underneath her cheeks. His heaving chest sending a feeling of comfort through her body that threatened to nestle in her heart. Inhaling his scent, listening to the strong beats of his heart, she allowed herself to dive into the moment - to fully enjoy herself. To fully enjoy what was becoming them.

Her mind, blissfully blurred by the weed she had dug up by the river nearby, had calmed down, accepting the fact that the fight against her heart was long lost. She was in love.

Deeply in love.

And for the first time, she was able to act on her feelings for him.

New Caprica - a planet of mud and dry sand. A contradiction anywhere on the Colonies - but not in that doomed corner of the galaxy the survivors of mankind had happened to run into. New Caprica - the planet that had cost her her presidency and the prosperity of man. A planet that might prove to be her haven after all.

Lying in his arms, free from the burdens of responsibility and presidential office, she felt the last feelings of doubt melt away - giving way to a reassuring feeling of comfort and home.

She smiled when she felt Bill's hands caressing her waist absentmindedly. He had said that he was enjoying this moment. He was enjoying _them_. And so was she.

Snuggling closer to him, she moved her left arm over his chest to draw circles on the skin that was hidden under all too many layers of his uniform. Noticing the slight change in rhythm, his heartbeat continued to caress her ears with a melody she had long thought to be forever lost to her.

Her own heartbeat racing up to meet the velocity of his, she brought her face to his neck to nuzzle against the softness of his skin and tickle him with her hair. Preparing herself to taste his flesh on her lips, she jumped an inch when she heard a familiar voice from a distance, yelling a confession of love.

Sitting up, she looked around and heard the voice again, met by the gruff voice of her companion. "Lee.", Bill growled.

"I'm just so glad he's not my son." Laura giggled, turning around to find her companion embarrassed as well as annoyed.  
"He could very well have been your son if we had met years back on Caprica." Bill answered in a tender voice before he met her amusement with a chuckle.

Surprised by the openness of his feelings, Laura replied with a flirty smile and a growing sparkle in her darkening green eyes. Not being able to suppress her mischievous nature, her tongue was faster than her drugged mind and allowed her thoughts to slip out. "If he was my son, he'd be smarter."

Chuckling some more, Bill gently grabbed her hand to pull her back down into his embrace while answering her in a delighted tone. "Of that I have no doubt."

Enjoying the ticklish feeling of her mane against his skin again, he was about to pull her on top of him when Kara's voice followed Lee's silly game. Rolling his eyes, Bill felt a new set of giggles washing over Laura's body.

"Not my daughter." Bill chuckled, indulging in the feeling of her quaking body pressed against his.

"Nor mine." Laura returned, burying her face in his neck when she felt the firmness of his lips on her head. Losing herself in the feeling of his probing hands on her body, she calmed her giggles and snuggled closer to him, avoiding any gap that might have been left between their bodies.

Lying half on top of him, carefully beginning to learn the topography of his body, she felt how Bill pulled her on top of her to push the first layer of her top aside. Leaning in to kiss her, tenderly at first but with a growing passion when his hands felt the naked skin of her arms underneath them. Breaking from their kiss for the shortness of seconds, Bill gave her a smug grin. "You don't want me to shout my love for you like this, do you?"

"Not like this, no." Laura gave back - her voice hoarse and low, barely above a whisper.

Pulling him into another kiss, Laura enjoyed the longing dance with his tongue before she paused for another millisecond. "You are not too drugged for this, are you?"

Bill, switching her gently onto her back, capturing her mouth for another intimate dance did not reply with words. The smile on her face was proof enough for him that she understood and enjoyed the way he sometimes preferred actions to conversations.


	10. Nightly Conversations

**Disclaimer: **BSG belongs to RDM and DE. **Characters: **A/R!And Zarek.

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**Nightly Conversations**

Bill answered the phone with a gruff voice. "What?" He paused to listen for a moment. "Alright. Let him in."

Forcing himself to get up, he swung his legs out of bed and hid his sleepy form in his bathrobe. Walking towards the hatch, he met Vice-President Zarek halfway at his dining room table.

"Good morning, Admiral."

"Morning." Bill barked back, his voice still thick with sleep and as low as a whisper. "What can I do for you?"

"I wanted to discuss a situation with you." Zarek's voice matched Adama's in volume.

"A situation? At 4am in the morning?" Bill didn't even bother to hide his annoyance.

"I'm sorry for the inconvenience, but things seem to escalate."

"Excuse me?" Bill didn't understand.

"Laura." Tom started without knowing how to continue.

"What about her?" Bill's voice dropped to a dangerous depth.

"I'm worried about her _commitments_ to you." Zarek shot him an uneasy smile, knowing that he had crossed a line.

"_Commitments_?" Bill switched into his military mode - his face a mask of superiority and calmness.

Pointing to his rack, Tom nodded his head. "Your relationship, Sir, it's interfering with her position as leader of the fleet."

"And how is that?" Bill ignored Tom's pointing finger, knowing that he had seen Laura snuggled up in his blanket, wearing his pajama top only.

"Her authority is undermined by this little game of yours." Tom went on, carefully.

"_Game_?" Bill's voice, still controlled but threating by intonation only, cut through Zarek's cool facade. "You think this is a _game_?"

"Well..."

"Not that this was any of your business, Mr. _Vice-President_, but I am not playing any _games_ with Laura. And I would appreciate it if you kept your concerns to yourself next time you can't sleep at 4 o'clock in the morning."

"She is losing her ground." Zarek didn't hesitate to add while he was shoved towards the hatch.

"She is finding herself again." Bill defended her.

"The energy she's wasting on playing hide & seek with you could very well be invested in more severe tasks." Tom attempted to explain himself.

"I don't know of any meeting or press conference or one-on-one or frakking emergency she hasn't attended - be it now or in the past." Bill's tone was lower than a whisper now, airlocking him by the mere sound of his voice. "She is sick, Mr. Vice-President. She needs some downtime and she's done everything to keep this fleet together. If playing _hide & seek_ with me makes her happy, I will see to it that she will get to play that _game_ with me as long as humanly possible. Is that understood?"

Tom nodded.

"And trust me, the last thing that will increase her energy level is knowing that her Vice-President is concerned about her personal life."

"I'm just worried about her." Tom defended himself.

"Then go find yourself another _project _to be worried about. Leave her alone." Bill opened the hatch. "And maybe you could raise her energy levels by attending some meetings for her." Bill patted his shoulder. "Thanks for stopping by, Mr. Vice-President. If you'll excuse me now, I have my own way of supporting our President."

Closing the hatch from the inside and right into Tom Zarek's face, Bill dragged himself back to bed, suppressing the anger that crept from his stomach to his mind. Putting his bathrobe on his chair again, sliding back under the covers and her arms, he decided to ignore his anger and enjoy the presence of her instead.

Feeling his warmth underneath her skin again, Laura snuggled up closer to him and placed a tired kiss onto his neck.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing much." Bill answered in a soothing voice. Fondling the soft skin of her waist, he continued in-between lazy kisses. "Just that crazy Vice-President of yours bothering about things that are none of his business."

Laura giggled. "What time is it?"

"4.20 now." Bill growled. "Go back to sleep."

Feeling the wakening sensation of his hands on her skin, she smiled against his skin when she nuzzled his ears. "Are you sure you want to sleep now?"

Bill shook his head, chuckling. "Sometimes I wonder where you get your energy from..."

"Oh, I recently discovered this drug. It's labeled _Admiral_ and comes with kisses and the comfort of a bed."

Bill, pulling her on top of him to capture her mouth with his, chuckled some more. "Do you know how much easier things would be if we had met on Caprica already?"

"You wouldn't have liked me on Caprica." Laura gave back in a playful tone.

"And why is that?" Bill freed her from his pajama top.

"I had this affair with the President." She said matter-of-fact, obviously not in the mood to pursue that conversation.

"Oh, I see." Bill joined her playfulness. "So you have the advantage of practice."

"Indeed, I do." Laura giggled onto his skin. "In playing games with the press at least. Apart from that, this is so different from what I ever had with Richard."  
Not bothering to hide his relief, Bill answered smugly. "Whatever got you into his bed in the first place.."

"Charm." Laura answered scantily.

"What did he do, promise to leave his wife for you?"

Looking up at him, Laura gave another scanty answer. "Do you think I'm that naive?"

Bill shook his head, reading between the lines that her affair had lasted longer than only a short few months.

Changing the subject, he kissed her breasts. "Well, it's a pity we didn't meet years back."

"You wouldn't have liked me years back either." Laura giggled. "I was this awfully conservative girl in college."

"You? Conservative?" Bill laughed out loud.

"Well, a little bit at least. Yes." She grinned while continuing her trail of kisses onto his chest. "Before I started baking weed cookies of course."

"You..." He captured her mouth again. "Oh well, I bet you wouldn't have liked me either.

"How's that?" Laura freed him from his pajama trousers.

"I was awfully immature back in the days. And I bet you never appreciated immaturity in men." He rolled her over to rest on top of her.

"Or in women." Laura gave back while pulling him into another lingering kiss.

"Are there some college stories you wish to share?" Bill wiggled his eyebrows before he reduced her to a bundle of giggles and moans, secretly planning on continuing their conversation at another time. But not just now that she was planning on reloading her batteries again by making love to him.


	11. Safe Haven

**Disclaimer:** BSG is not mine. **Characters:** A/R.

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**Safe Haven**

It was one of those days again. She hadn't gotten the chance to have lunch, she felt tired but had no spare minute to even think about a rejuvenating nap, and her schedule was stuffed till late at night. Sometimes, it was hard to be the President of the Colonies. It wasn't so much the burden of responsibility or power, it was the disappointed expectations and defeats that got to her on days like that. Knowing that she couldn't devide herself, she had to focus on the task at hand rather than at everything at the same time. And sometimes that meant that some solutions to minor problems had to be postponed, and that in the worst cases, the solution came too late. Today, Laura Roslin had had to postpone several minor problems, and she had the distinct feeling that Tory hadn't even bothered to bring everything to her precious attention. She would check on that later, if she remembered. Right now, she had to face another exhausting attempt to interrogate Gaius Baltar. And she wasn't able to cope so easily with that. His resistance to accept his role in the crimes against humanity affected her more deeply than she would openly admit. She refused to talk to anyone about that, only Admiral Adama was an exception. He was an exception to the rule concerning so many things in Laura Roslin's life. He was the only person who preoccupied her mind without haunting her. He was her salvation on the most stressful of days. The mere thought of his smirking lips, of his clapping hands before so many others, of his steadying arms, of his tender eyes made her survive the dullest meetings and tasks. It was very un-presidential to allow herself to let her mind wander off in certain situations. But she would never allow anybody to catch her daydreaming. She was very professional about everything, including her dreams. It was a gift to be able to dream herself away while keeping her eyes and ears focused enough to follow the necessities of the boring parts of her job.

Right now, she wasn't daydreaming because she was bored, but because she was exhausted. She needed her mind to settle down a little. She needed to prepare herself for another session with her former Vice President. She needed to gather some strength to shield herself from his ignorance.

She didn't even notice how her feet dragged her along the corridor, how she knocked at the doors to his quarters, how her smile broadened when he bit her to enter, and how she felt at ease the moment the doors were closed behind her and she was alone with him, being welcomed by one of his warmest smiles.

She noticed how he spoke her name, calmly and with a question mark arising in his beautiful eyes. She shook her head the slightest of bits, giving him one of her cutest smiles. How was it possible that she felt immature and safe around him at the same time?

She swayed towards him on the couch, gracefully resting her tired body next to him, her head falling on his shoulders. She closed her eyes. It was good to smell the scent of him, to feel his steady breath and his arm closing around her waist.

He spoke her name again, ever so softly that you might overhear it as a shy whisper. "Laura?"

Her answer was simple and breathed against his skin. "It's just one of those days."

He smiled. He understood. So he tightened his embrace, caressing her waist and placing re-assuring kisses onto her soft hair. "I see."

He closed his eyes as well, knowing that he would only be allowed to enjoy her presence for the shortness of minutes before they would be interrupted by their responsibilities again. So he had learned to accept her sudden visits, her need for intimacy and protection from time to time. He knew that she was reloading her batteries like that, and he had no intention to break that habit. Her presence helped him to flee from Galactica for the shortness of moments, when he allowed his mind to wander off, fleeing to a place of safety and togetherness. A place where he could retire, where the burden of his command was left to other capable hands and where he woke in the loving arms of the woman he loved beyond understanding. It was a place filled with sunshine, laughter and leisure. A place where she could surprise him every minute of the day. A place free of Cylons, free of duties and free of holding back his feelings. It was a place he had learned to know Laura would enjoy. A place called home.


	12. Her

**Disclaimer:** BSG is not mine. **Characters:** Cottle and Laura with implied A/R elements. Originally written for the Cottle month of love on LJ. :o)

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**Her**

Jack Cottle felt her pulse – it was calm, reassuringly calm.

He remembered how the blood had rushed through her veins the first time she had come to see him.

The President.

Pale back then, nervous, caught between two worlds – in a state of shock, about her cancer and the destruction of their homes, and even more so, about her sudden thrust into power.

He recalled her voice – calm, controlled, edgy but warm.

He remembered her eyes, trying to hide the fear from him, the uneasiness and the stress. It was no use – he had seen it too often.

But there was something intriguingly special about her – he also remembered that – a sparkle of uniqueness, a proof of a stubborn soul and the heart of a fighter.

He had admired her then already, like he had noticed William Adama did. He was secretly tickled to see the controlled facade to crumble in her presence – and he wondered if others were thinking the same about him.

Laura Roslin – a woman to melt shields and break hearts. His heart, at least, for he knew that she would never share the intensity of his feelings for her.

He sighed, noticing how a melancholic smile crept up from his mind to his lips. Covering it behind a morose cough, he met her irritated expression with a fast, "Did you overdo it with the Chamalla, young lady? Your pulse is awfully slow."

Laura shook her head and met his remark with a playful smile. "Now, Jack, would I ever do that?"

He chuckled, lighting another cigarette to hide his amusement. "If you're playing the private card already, Laura, do whatever you want but don't you waste my time with an overdose."

"Of course not, sir." Laura bit her lips, thinking about last night's visions and her particularly lengthy conversation with Bill.

"Now seriously, Madame President. I don't care how many brain cells you wish to kill with your drugs, but don't make me come to treat you because of them."

Laura smiled one of her warmest smiles. "Do I take it that you are worried about the mental health of your President in the long run?"

"I don't care about your presidency, I care about the person that is Laura Roslin."

Laura's smile broadened and she reached out for his hand. Taking it into hers, she looked deeply into his eyes.

Losing himself in glistening green, Jack missed a heart beat when she leaned in to him to place a tender kiss onto the roughness of his lips.

Blinking in response to her kiss, he wished to bury his hands in her hair to pull her into another kiss – the softness of her lips left a burning need on his own, a need that reached right down to his heart and toes.

Hearing the warmth of her voice, he knew that she had said something nice to him. He knew that this kiss had happened out of the moment, that it was amiable rather than passionate, but the aching of his heart told him otherwise.

Nodding to her, he realized that he had agreed to her to get dressed again and leave sickbay.

She would now leave for another one-on-one with the Admiral, and Jack wondered if she had ever given him a thank-you kiss like that in the secrecy of his quarters.

Seeing Bill Adama entering sickbay to pick her up, he knew that she had. And judging by the smile on his lips when his ocean blue melted with her emerald green, Jack knew it had not only been a singular one.


	13. Shopping Shortage After the Apocalypse

**Disclaimer: **And another day of "BSG is not mine..." **Characters:** Ellen Tigh, A/R, Saul Tigh.

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**Shopping Shortage After the Apocalypse**

It was later at night when Ellen decided to sneak into the Admiral's quarters to steal a bottle of Ambrosia from her husband's best friend. Suspecting that he was sound asleep after a long dinner with her, Saul and _Madame President_, she tiptoed into the room after she had charmed the security detail to open the hatch for her.

It was way past midnight when she found Bill's not-so-secret hiding place and more bottles of Ambrosia she had hoped for. It was seconds later that she ducked for cover at the sound of his voice from the direction of his rack. Waiting for him to sneak around the corner of his bookshelves any minute now, she tried to hide somewhere and found herself exposed to whoever would enter the room from the depth of his quarters or the door.

Panicking for a millisecond, she soon realized that she had remained undetected when she heard his voice again, mingling with the familiar sound of another voice - female and soft. Ellen wrinkled her forehead and crept in the direction of his rack - suspecting the voices to come from there. Peeking her head around the corner of his shelves, still ducked and on her hands and knees, Ellen couldn't suppress a smirk when she saw a slim female leg dangling from the Admiral's bed. Red nails embellished the toes that began to caress Bill's legs, and a deep moan escaped the lungs of a woman who confessed her love for him.

Curious, and eager to find out who Bill Adama was frakking so late at night, Ellen changed her position as best as possible and caught the glimpse of the woman's hair. Auburn, wavy and long.

_The President_.

Ellen had to control her chuckles. Biting her tongue, she considered what to do with that kind of juicy information. Her immediate idea was to contact the press - but she was too drunk to sound sane. So she considered waiting for them on the couch, bottle in hand - but hearing the increasing sounds of their lovemaking wasn't encouraging her plan.

When she looked around the room, her eyes stopped at the sight of Laura's outfit from their dinner earlier that night. It was of a purple color, and so wasted on a person like Laura Roslin Ellen found. Not that she didn't look ravishing in that color or style, but if there was someone on Galactica who was supposed to look ravishing, it was her - Ellen Tigh - and not the President of the 12 Colonies of all people.

Nodding to herself after a short moment of doubt, Ellen grabbed the outfit, hid it under her bathrobe and hurried out of the room.

Fortunately, Saul had been too drunk to ask her where she had gotten Laura's outfit from when she returned. And in the morning, he was too loyal to her to admit that she had taken it in the first place.

It was later that day, a formal one-on-one with the President in the Admiral's quarters, when Ellen explained herself to Laura. And Laura, secretly checking Galactica's corridors for the next best airlock within reach in her mind, smiled back at her and gave in. _Let her keep it_, Laura thought. _I can't wear it in official meetings anyway. And the only purpose it still had was to seduce Bill._ Smirking to herself she knew that she could mark that agenda item as done.

Ellen, happy at first to have blackmailed Laura Roslin, came to realize that she had pissed off the President - and if rumors were true, the last thing anyone in the fleet wanted was to do just that.

It wasn't before New Caprica that Ellen Tigh realized that Laura Roslin had her reasons for being presidential. It wasn't before Ground Breaking Day that she realized how deeply in love Bill actually was with her. And it wasn't before that night after the Cylon invasion that Ellen finally came to understand Laura in a way she had never thought she would.

Smoking some of her weed, Saul in detention, Ellen learned to share her grief with Laura. Although she knew that Laura was holding back, she felt the gratitude for companionship and never gave away the secret that was her love for Bill Adama.

Never having seen her shed tears over anything, Ellen was humbled to experience the only moment of weakness she had ever experienced with Laura Roslin. And she tried her best to dry her tears with understanding. Feeling her heart going out to Laura after detention, Ellen listened to her _I miss him so much_. And she knew that she had found a confidant in their former President when it came to her spying methods with the Cylons.

It was after the trial that Laura paid a visit to Saul Tigh to pay her belated respects - his words about Ellen in the witness stand had touched her deeply. Looking at a pile of clothes on his couch, she detected her purple costume again and smiled.

"She looked ravishing in that outfit." Laura shot him a sad smile.

"She always said the same thing about you, Laura." Saul answered scantily. Pointing to to clothes he turned away from her to suppress his emotions, pouring himself a drink. "She would have wanted you to have these. She always said how limited shopping sprees were after the apocalypse." He chuckled. "I think that's something you might relate to more than I ever did."

Giving him another sad smile, she nodded. "I can so hear her complaining about just that."

"Laura?" Saul addressed her when he was handing her the clothes. "Would you do me a favor?"

"Sure." Laura hesitated for a moment.

"Would you promise me to actually wear her stuff? It would make her happy."

"I will." Laura said with a calm voice.

"I know you came to get along on New Caprica. I would like to know that after all she's done, you won't think bad of her."

"So you don't care about what I think about you?" Laura tried to break the sadness of the moment and giggled when Saul answered her wit ha gruff sense of sarcasm. "I know that you hate my guts, Madame President. And that's just fine with me. It's Bill who has to frak you after all, not me."

Pouting her lips to hide her amusement, she whispered to him when she stepped through his hatch into the corridor. "I will tell him you said hi." And with that, she turned her back on him and dragged herself in the direction of Bill's quarters, thinking about the words Ellen had once said to her on New Caprica. "I'm far better off with that purple outfit of yours, Laura. Bill prefers you without it anyway." And she smiled, knowing how true that was indeed.


	14. Solitude

**Disclaimer:** BSG is not mine. Laura-only post _"Six of One"_fic. **Warning: **This isn't nec a fun ride. So don't throw eggs at me for not including fluff or smut or forgiving words. This is not Bill-bashing but neither is it A/R cuteness and love sunshine & healthy Laura.

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**Solitude**

Laura sat in the dark and sobbed. It was the silent kind of sobbing she had perfected when her mother was ill – a skill she had often cherished in lonely nights or unknown places.

His words had hit home, and they had cut deep. She hated how she allowed him to affect her so deeply – and her hair was just adding to that.

She saw her mother, pale and bald, lying on her bed, tired of company, food and life. If there was anything Laura was scared of, it was to die like that. Bill had been right, she was afraid of dying alone – but she was also afraid of clinging to someone in her current state. She wasn't vain enough to think about his feelings about her hair loss now, it was the revelation that she'd lost control over her body and over her health. She had avoided Diloxin for a reason the first time around and she had felt forced into taking that path for everyone but herself. She knew the side effects, she knew the pain, she knew the exhaustion. It was everything but pretty. And she was aware that everybody always said _I am here_ until the mood swings started and the pain became a constant reminder of a possible death.

It was hard to face the path lying ahead – a struggle for a life she felt was already lost. If she was the dying leader, she would inevitably die; Bill had been wrong about that. She wasn't afraid of dying a meaningless death, she was afraid of not dying at all and being forced to go through this painful process again. Death itself didn't scare her anymore. She should've died on Caprica; she should've died on Galactica and on the hell of a planet named after her original home world. She was so tired of it all. Dying a meaningless death was really the last thing that kept her awake at night, but she would have to lie if she said she wasn't hoping to be around long enough to ensure her people's safety. It was like the wish to finish a journey – if not for herself but for the men, women and children in the fleet. She didn't want to see Earth so badly anymore, but she wanted to know that humanity found their home.

Another sob and a desperate attempt to keep it quiet. There was nothing she wanted less right now than getting his pity or his comfort. She didn't want him to see her like that – drenched in tears, losing the struggle to keep her composure, her pride floating away with every stubborn tear. She hated to cry – and she refused to admit that he had crumbled her self-esteem that reduced her to tears now. Why had she opened her heart like that?

She closed her eyes and muffled a scream that began to form in her throat. Loneliness had been bad enough when she suffered through this before – but was it worth the tears and the feelings of desperation to be so close to someone now? Relationships were hard enough in times of health and joy, and any long-term commitment was suffering under circumstances like that. So why had she allowed herself to fall into him like that? She knew it made her vulnerable and if there was one thing she disliked it was feeling dependent or fragile. He had made her feel that and so much more a moment ago. She knew that he had been gentle to her, comparing to how he could explode – but his words had cut deep enough.

She shuddered, coldness enveloping her for a moment, and she shook her head. It was no use though to hope that her tears would disappear. They continued to stream down her face and she was divided between anger, sadness and being hurt. Half rebuking herself for letting him in, for accepting his offer to live in his quarters, for suddenly being a one without striving for it, she began to wipe away the tears and carefully brought her hair in order. Choking down another sob and willing back her tears, Laura got up, very carefully so, hoping to reduce the nausea that came with Diloxin by enjoying a drink.

Laura cleared her throat in that silent way of hers and bit down the feeling of uneasiness a cramp in her leg began to cause. When she turned around, she was relieved to find Bill lying on the couch, his back turned to her. Uncertain about him being asleep or not, she decided to almost tiptoe to the bathroom until she stopped pretending that she was only a guest. "You can stay in the room but get out of my head," his words lay heavily on her memory and instead of hurting she felt strangely upset. It hadn't been her idea to move in. She had asked him repeatedly if it wouldn't annoy him – and now he was gracious enough to not throw her out of what he had previously called her home as much as his? She was astonished that she didn't fume, anger giving way to pain.

When she reached the bathroom to get ready for bed, Laura bit back another wave of tears – a struggle she lost as soon as she gave into the craving of taking a hot shower before bed. She felt the water running over her head, more hair in her hands, she crouched on the shower floor and screamed without releasing a sound. The steam of the hot water filled the bathroom and she shuddered when the water comforting her turned icy cold.

"Are you trying to catch a cold?" Bill yelled when he ripped the shower curtain aside, concern evident through the gruffness of his voice.

Laura met his grumpy look with a tired smile and took the towel from his hands. Thanking him with a nod, she stepped out of the shower and caught the mask of shock on his face when he detected her hair in the shower. Ignoring him as long as possible, she brushed her teeth and grabbed what was now her pj's. Resisting the urge to brush her hair, she felt how he approached her from behind to pull her into an embrace. Closing her eyes she freed herself from his touch, her calmness startling him, her hands asking him to keep away.

"Don't. Please, not now." She opened her eyes again and struggled to keep more tears at bay.

Showing her that he knew about her hair, Bill tried to bring his hand to her cheeks but stopped when she shook her head.

"I need to be alone now." She had intended to sound cold or harsh, but all she was able to muster was a pleading tone to keep her voice from breaking entirely.

He nodded.

Laura gave him another tired smile and huddled up on what was now her bed.

"I'll be here," he whispered into her direction.

Laura, feeling his uneasiness, sensing how he didn't know whether to stay or leave, decided to ignore him as best as she could. She didn't feel like hearing promises or excuses now – she didn't want to cry anymore or to feel pitied. All she wanted now was sleep. And in the morning, she knew things would fall back into place as they always did. The apocalypse, the brig, dying, losing the election, New Caprica, detention, Baltar's acquittal – it was almost laughable to list the things she had faced in the past few years, but it was also scary in a way to admit how his reaction had affected her more than any of the ups and downs she had gone through before.

Grabbing the blanket to warm herself, she turned her back to the wall instead of to the room and observed him lying down on the couch. Maybe he was sorry for what he had said, maybe he was suffering inside – right now she didn't care, and if he wanted to apologize, he'd have to wait for a new day to dawn on her.


	15. She

**Disclaimer:** BSG is not mine. **Characters:** Roslin/Adar (pre-mini).

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**She**

Colonial Day. It had once been his favorite holiday. Not so anymore. Not since he had been elected into office, was the President of the Twelve Colonies, and was assigned to attend ceremony after ceremony.

Richard frowned.

Another play, endless songs and speeches, more hands to shake. At least it was the last celebration he had to go to – and she would be there. Laura.

He smiled when he stepped out of the car. One of his professional smiles, superficial and small. When his security detail cleared the way, he spotted her right away, wearing a white suit, red blouse and red shoes, a red scarf wrapped around her shoulders to keep her warm. It was his favorite color on her.

He sighed. Officials rushing his way with either polite grins on some faces, shy giggles or stony masks. It was the same wherever he arrived. Friendly voices invited him to take a seat, his family was seated right next to him, and then the festivities began.

It was strange sitting next to his wife. They kept the facade of a functional family life to guarantee his stable position as President. In reality however there was nothing left to say. Richard had long distanced himself from his wife, at least on an emotional level, and he often wondered why he didn't just move out. When he looked in his son's eyes his question was answered though, and the sound of his daughter's giggle at a joke told on stage was reminder enough of the reasons to live his lie.

When he looked down the line of chairs that hosted members of the presidential staff and Quorum, his eyes rested on her for a second too long. The red of her clothes adding to her vibrancy, luring him into what he sometimes felt was a sensual trap. His wife, sitting next to him kicked his ankle and he mouthed a quick _I'm sorry_ her way. Memories came back to him at the look on his wife's face, controlled and cold, blocking what he was doing to her. He heard the sound of her voice when she confronted him one day, low and calm. "_Do you love her?"_ And the look on his face had betrayed him enough.

When the ceremony was over, Richard got back into his car after he'd kissed his kids good-bye. He would see them in two days. How he cherished the days they spent with their grand-parents or friends – not that he wouldn't miss them, but it gave him freedom for her. Laura.

When the car stopped by the gate to her little house, he was pleased to see hers in front of it already. Excusing his security detail, Richard walked up to her house and used the keys he always carried in the left pocket of his jacket.

When he entered her home, he enjoyed the breeze of fresh air that welcomed him, the smell of food mixed with the scent of flowers that were so dear to her. He smiled – a warm smile now, easy and relaxed. He was with her.

When he turned into the open kitchen, he loved to see her in her white trousers and red blouse only. Shoes kicked aside, her jacket hanging on a chair, her scarf lying on the dining room table. He loved to see her laid back like that. Her auburn brown hair fell down her shoulders in stubborn curls, moving along with the rest of her body to a melody only she knew. The sound of her humming reached his ears in interrupted waves.

He walked up to her, bringing his arms around her waist to hold her close, feeling her curves pressed against his body. She smiled, humming her approval into him when he met her lips for a welcoming kiss. As soon as they broke their kiss, she pushed some food into his mouth for him to taste what she was cooking. Turning in his embrace, she slung her arms around his neck and hopped onto the kitchen counter that was free of food, wrapping her legs around his waist to draw him closer. Pulling him into another kiss, deeper than the first one, leaving no room for innocent thoughts, she moaned her _I missed you_ against him.

It always started like that. She was acting natural around him, ignoring his title, making him feel complete. It was intoxicating.

The scent of her, the depth of her voice when she moaned his name – she was a temptress, although shy and quiet at times. How different she was in meetings; the observer rather than a person to raise her voice too fast. But alone, alone with him she was so much more – so lively, so relaxed. So beautiful.

He grinned when she hopped off the counter again and shoved the dish in the oven. He knew what she would do next. Feeling her hands reaching out for his, he followed her into her bedroom. Getting undressed on their way up the stairs, he pulled her back into his arms as soon as they had reached their destination. He loved how the scent of her shampoo mixed with her perfume, her fingers tasting like the food she had just prepared, her skin salty and sweet. She was everything and more.

When he placed her on the bed, her hair spreading over the mountains of cushions she liked to keep around, he kicked off the rest of his clothes and rested on top of her. Caressing her skin, soft and flawless in its imperfection, he enjoyed every single breath she took. Every sound she made. Every moan he triggered.

His mouth found its way to her belly button, kissing the curves of her stomach and hips and back to her center again. His name, vibrating from her throat, reaching his ears like the melody of a siren – spurred him on. Her body shaking when he sucked at her nipples, he licked her breasts and kissed his way up to her neck. There it was, the sound of her humming again, as if she was composing a song for only them to hear and he gladly accepted the part of the conductor. Nuzzling her, kissing her jawline and biting her earlobe ever so softly, he released a gasp when he felt her skillful hands around him. Sending sparks through his body she caressed him, stroked him, loved to give him pleasure.

His eyes drifted shut for an instant but he focused on her again to pull her into a passionate kiss. Feeling her arousal reaching a peak, he melted his soul with hers and they became one. Lying still for a moment, enjoying the sensation of being joined, Richard kissed her again, as deeply as he could without taking all of her breath away. When she gasped for air, he moved with her, seeking a rhythm that was far from frantic but everything but slow. Her eyes closed, her voice almost praying his name, Richard felt her climax before his own release overwhelmed him. Collapsing in her arms, he placed another lazy kiss against the sweaty skin on her neck. Hearing her mumbling an _I love you_, he rolled to his side and sought her mouth for another kiss. Gathering her in his arms, her breasts pressing comfortably against his chest, her legs intertwining with his, he let her drift off to sleep, wishing he could give her more than just another weekend or another holiday.

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She may be the face I can't forget  
The trace of pleasure or regret  
May be my treasure or the price I have to pay  
She may be the song the summer sings  
May be the chill the autumn brings  
May be a hundred different things  
Within the measure of a day

She may be the beauty or the beast  
May be the famine or the feast  
May turn each day into a heaven or a hell  
She may be the mirror of my dreams  
The smile reflected in a stream  
She may not be what she may seem inside her shell

She who always seems so happy in a crowd  
Whose eyes can be so crowded and so proud  
No one's allowed to see them when they cry  
She may be the love that cannot hope to last  
May come to me from shadows of the past  
But I'll remember till the day I die

She may be the reason I survive  
The why and wherefore I'm alive  
The one I'll care for through the rough in many years  
Me, I'll take her laughter and her tears  
And make them all my souvenirs  
For where she goes I've got to be  
The meaning of my life is she

("She" by Elvis Costello)


	16. Cures

**Disclaimer:** BSG is not mine. **Characters:** A/R, Tom Zarek.

* * *

**Cures**

Laura Roslin was informed about Kara Thrace's sudden death in one of her meetings with the Vice President. Her instincts told her that she should check on Bill this very second for she was certain he would not allow anybody else but her to confront him with his feelings. Frakkingly enough, the task at hand proved to be of primary importance. Gaius Baltar. His trial. She was sick of it already. The prospect of having to face him in court, day after day, listening to his lamenting about innocence and a lack of choices made her feel sick to her stomach already. How she wished she could have airlocked him right away, the moment he had set foot on the Galactica or the moment she had first laid eyes on him again. It was not so much a feeling of revenge that drove her to that conclusion, it was rather a mere fact of annoyance. That man would never understand or admit his crimes. Although it might have been the right choice to give him a trial, the right choices had not always proven to be the smartest ones after all. She was President enough to realize that. And this trial wasn't particularly one of the smartest of moves, her Vice President reassured her repeatedly. She still hoped to be able to prove him wrong.

"Did you consider the option of martial law again, Madame President?" Zarek shot her a hesitant look. He knew that she wasn't too fond of that idea, and given the circumstances, he had a vague idea why.

"I don't think that this would be a good idea, Tom. But I will reconsider it in case of immediate necessity."

Tom Zarek nodded. Her answer had been stern, brisk. He knew her well enough by now to read the signs. "I think we should call it a night, Laura. We should both try to get Baltar out of our heads."

Laura Roslin moved her eyes up to meet his, taking off her glasses and rubbing her forehead. She sighed. "If only that was so simple."

The Vice President nodded his _I know's_ into her direction while getting up. "It haunts me sometimes in my dreams, the mere thought of him getting free passage and absolution." He returned her tired smile. "You should not only have threatened to airlock him."

"Huh!" Laura gasped, keeping the thoughts of agreement to herself. She forced herself to get up from her chair behind her provisional desk, re-arranging the files and folders in that creative way of hers.

"Good night then, Madame President."

"Good night, Mr. Zarek." Laura mouthed without looking up again, allowing her mind to unlock the door to her feelings of concern for the Admiral already. "Tory!" She paused, gathering her things while speaking to her approaching aide. "I need a transfer to the Battlestar. ASAP."

"Of course." Tory nodded, rushing off again.

The moment Laura Roslin entered his quarters through the hatch the guards had opened for her, she found what she had anticipated.

He was sitting at his desk, his eyes staring into the empty room around him, fighting his tears in rage. He had obviously crashed his model ship, and didn't even bother to pick up the pieces just now.

Laura put off her shoes for she wanted to feel comfortable for him, and floated towards him, hoping that she wouldn't startle him in his state of sorrow. She half expected him to reject her tender attempts to provide him comfort or company, she did not however expect him to welcome her presence. The moment she had stepped up to him, placing her arm on his shoulders, caressing him in a mere friendly manner, he had pulled her closer, burying his head on her belly. They didn't speak a word. They remained silent like that for minutes. She fondled his hair and neck, feeling his tears soaking through her blouse, and his desperate need for her soothing closeness.

After a while, William Adama raised his head, ever so slowly. And he allowed her to wipe his tears away from his exhausted face. He met her gaze, feeling ashamed for the slightest of seconds, when he saw the sadness in her eyes, the support, the understanding. And he remembered. Billy. She had not allowed herself to shed tears in his company in that morgue. She had been pure grace, fighting the waves of nausea with dignity. They had never mentioned his death since that day, and he knew that if he wished, he would not have to mention Kara again after this.

Before he was able to control his own reactions, Bill pulled her close again, making room for her to sit on his lap. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight, and resting his head against her bosom. He sobbed. "She was like a daughter to me, Laura."

Laura placed soft kisses onto his head, trying to soothe him. "I know." She rested her head against his, whispering onto his skin. "I'm so sorry."

She felt his immobility and his hands holding her tight as if his life depended on her. She shifted on his lap, ever so lightly, trying to find a more comfortable position with her skirt tightening on her thighs. Bill raised his head, meeting her gaze, and moving his hands to her waist to assist her. When her skirt glided up, revealing her nylon and lace covered thighs, she shot him a shy giggly smile. Her feet barely touched the floor since she had almost wrapped her legs around his to allow him to hold her close. His thumbs began to caress her waist, and he slowly moved his hands to her thighs, sending shivers down her spine when he touched her skin. Laura closed her eyes, unable to suppress a moan. Instinctively, she moved her hands to his chest, feeling her way up and down his body. She felt his lips on her neck, travelling down. His fingers unbuttomed her blouse, slowly, carefully. Feeling him trembling against her, she wasn't sure if he was nervous or if he simply tried to control himself. His mouth on her chest, moaning her name against her flesh stopped the slightest feeling of doubt about this step ahead. She let her head fall back, her hair falling down her bare back, and her throat producing the most grateful of sounds to the feeling of his lips on her breasts. When he moved away from her for the shortest of moments, Laura opened her eyes again, meeting his gaze with a darkened set of green eyes. She helped him to get rid of his shirts and leaned in to kiss him passionately. Bill was pleased to find her longing for him as much as he longed for her. He had always been sure that she would be sensual and responsive, but he had not dared to expect her to be demanding and yearning. Bill moved his hands back up to her waist to remove her skirt before he carefully rolled down her elegant stockings, one leg at a time. Laura fondled his scar, starting to kiss his neck, his chest, his cheeks. She nuzzled his ears, she whispered her approval into them when he caressed her thighs and responded with a wave of low giggles when he raised her up to his desk. Her eyes sparkled devellishly when he laid her down, ever so carefully. He caressed her cheeks, pulling her into another lingering kiss before he removed the last piece of her underwear. Laura lost herself a little in his deep admiring gaze, giggling at his words of praise for her beauty. She moved her hands to his belt, not caring to hide her impatience. She indulged in the feeling of his skin on hers when she pulled him down on her. "I want you, Bill.", was all she managed to whisper under her breath, and she was all the more excited to hear his hoarsy voice in response. "I need you so much, Laura."

When they merged, they were Bill and Laura, two souls becoming one. Consequences, doubts, responsibilities, commitments were of no importance to the blissful lovers for the moments of their unity. Their sorrows pushed aside, they entered a stage of satisfaction and freedom, her body providing him a cure for his pain. The only cure he ever wanted.

When Laura felt the waves of pleasure sending a ticklish feeling of release to her heart, she closed her legs around him again, moaning his name, and reassuring him of her love, allowing him to find his bliss with her.

They rested on his desk for a couple of quiet moments, waiting for their breathing to steady & their hearts to slow down. When Bill parted from her, he raised her tenderly into his arms and carried her over to his bed, stopping her attempts to protest with a loving kiss. He laid her on the bed, carefully covering her with his sheets, and opened his drawer. He rested next to her, laying his arms around her, enjoying the feeling of her cuddling up with him immediately.

They didn't have to speak. They understood each other without words, and he could see her satisfaction mirrored in her eyes as much as she could see his. She wrapped her leg around his, entangling herself with him, fondling his chest, as if she tried to assure him that this was now her territory, her playground, her field of expertise. He smiled, lightening the joint he had just taken from the drawer and handed it over to her. Her reaction was just the way he had hoped. Her giggles. Those adorable giggles.

He pulled her into another lingering kiss, enjoying the feeling of her body climbing on top of his, preparing him for another pleasurable journey. And he closed his eyes, giving her full control over his body.

How he wished that the night would never end. And how she wished just the same.

**The End**


	17. Showers, Steam & Galactica's Old Age

**Disclaimer:** BSG is not mine. **Characters:** A/R.

* * *

**Showers, Steam and Galactica's Old Age**

Laura indulged in the feeling of the steamy heat around her tired body. It felt like ages that she had enjoyed a long hot shower like that, and she did not know when she would next have the pleasure to enjoy another.

So she stuck her head under the comforting wet stream and listened to the sound of the water running over her hair and ears, enveloping her fully.

The drops of water built a stream down her curves and she felt rejuvenated and content.

Her eyes closed, she ran a sponge over her toned arms and legs, happy about the hours she had just spent in Galactica's gym.

When she turned to grab her shampoo, she missed the bottle with her hand and it dropped on the floor of the shower instead with a thump.

Laura shook her head and giggled. "Overdid it, Laura. One hour would've been enough," she sighed and bent over to pick it up.

After she had washed the last remains of her peach-scented shampoo out of the length of her hair, she tried to switch off the water and failed.

Blinking her eyes in irritation, she tried to switch it off one more time when her wet hands slipped off the handle and smacked against her bottles of shampoo and gel. The anticipated noise of the falling plastic made her jump in advance and she hid her annoyance under another set of giggles.

Ignoring the bottles for a moment, she gave it another try, and moved her hands back to the water regulator. It was then that she released a frustrated "Oh, for frak's sake," and Bill Adama rushed into his bathroom.

Seeing her through milky glass, crumpled on the floor of his shower, Bill ripped the door open to help her up and stopped dead in track when he realized that she was just collecting shampoo bottles.

Staring at her for a second too long, his lips curled up to an embarrassed but smitten smile when Laura looked up at him in bafflement. The surprise washing away from her face as the steam left the shower cabin through the open door she got up, her arms covering her breasts. Moving her eyes over the length of his body, she shot him a mischievous smile in response to his vanishing smirk. Reaching out one of her hands to him, she decided to act out of the moment before her mind would take control again – and her heart was silently begging for him to follow suit.

Bill hesitated for the blink of an eye before he gently grabbed her hand. Feeling the humidity of the water enveloping him, he assisted her skillful hands in unwrapping him from his tank tops.

Laura, pleased to get a chance to finally explore the topography of his chest, giggled when he whispered to her under his breath, "Did I mention that the handle is a bitch sometimes?"

Her giggles increased. "No, you forgot to mention that when I didn't ask you if I could use your shower."

Bil chuckled. "Oh well, Laura. You know that my home is your castle."

"Good to know," she grinned.

"I thought you knew that."

"I guess I did," she tugged at his belt, "but it's always good to be reminded of it."

"Well, may I remind you then that you are always welcome in one of my beds?"

Laura's smile broadened – her voice now as low as a moan, "Or in your shower."

Bill, having placed his hands on her hips, drew maddening circles down her spine and buttocks. Pulling her into a first longing kiss he agreed with her, "Or in my shower."

His smile matching hers, his hands moved up and down her back – his fingers leaving traces of goosebumps on her sensitive skin. Laura closed her eyes to the tender treatment of his palms on her shoulders moving down to her breasts to fondle them, and a frustrated moan was released from the depth of her throat.

"You are so beautiful," Bill confessed under a kiss, enjoying the blushing of her cheeks to the sound of his words. Bringing his mouth to her skin after all, he whispered his love for her onto her neck – her breasts – her stomach. Her hands buried in his hair by now, he moved further down to lick the inside of her thighs before he went down on her to trigger sounds of pleasure he had so often dreamed about at night.

Recovering from her first wave of delight, Laura steadied herself against him and the tile-covered wall. Putting her arms around him as he fondled his way up her body again to pull her into a passionate kiss, she encouraged him to fill her and find his own release in unison.

When he merged with her, he remained still for a moment afterwards to adjust to the sensation of being one with the woman he loved. Whispering his feelings against her temple, he rocked against her, pushing her over the edge along with him after few deep thrusts.

Their breathing heavy, their bodies exhausted, they just stood entangled for a moment – the world shut out, only Laura and Bill, their souls as bare as their bodies.

Recovering after a while, they exchanged tender kisses and caresses through wash cloths and soap. When they finally switched off the water, Bill wrapped her in his cozy bathrobe and carried her to his rack. Wearing a towel around his hips himself, he joined her under his covers and indulged in the feeling of holding her close. Drifting off to sleep, they both smiled at the memory of a newfound bliss. One night together and a promise for more to come.


	18. Mixed Feelings

**Disclaimer:** BSG is not mine.** Characters:** A/R.

* * *

**Mixed Feelings**

Laura was staring at the ceiling.

_I love you. _

His words rang in her ears.

She had rewound that scene in her mind for so long now, she began to wonder if it had actually happened. And then she saw her dress lying on her couch. _That dress. _She wished she had decided to wear one of her presidential suits instead. _But no_, she had felt like going casual tonight.

_Frak! _Laura closed her eyes in despair. She had really not expected him to confess his love for her. And what was even worse, she hadn't expected her mind to go blank.

She had looked at him. _Stared_ might be more apt, she had to admit.

He had looked at her, his soul shining through in his eyes. _Oh, those eyes._

How could she not have seen this coming?

How could she have been so unprepared for this?

_Gods!_

_It's not like your 16 any longer, Laura..._ She despised herself.

It was supposed to be a normal dinner. One of those they had shared so often.

He knew that her quarters were cramped in comparison to his.

He knew that she felt comfortable around him – comfortable in his quarters, she corrected herself.

Along with Colonial One, it was the closest thing to home for her.

But she could never tell him that.

And obviously, she didn't have to be afraid to give her feelings away in his presence. It was more likely that she would go mute around him.

_Dear Lords of Kobol._

Where was it coming from? The silence.

She was always comfortable around him. She was never short on remarks with him.

Laura shook her head.

Yes, but then he had been different today.

He wasn't Admiral – he was Bill.

The way he looked at her when she walked through the hatch and closed it behind her. The way he smiled.

His eyes, caressing every inch of her in that dress.

He remembered it, telling her that he did – his satisfied smile evidence of precious memories he kept hidden from his men.

_New Caprica._

Ground Breaking Day.

Alcohol, New Caprican weed, a starry night, no burden of responsibility for her, her red dress and his arms.

She sighed.

_Oh my Gods, Bill, you don't seriously believe that I don't remember that night?_

Laura whispered into the room, her voice trailing off at the memory of his hurt face when she had fled from his quarters - from him - only hours ago.

But he had overwhelmed her.

His words. His look. His hands – gently taking hers into his, pulling her closer to his body.

And the memories had started to mess with her rational mind.

Colonial Day. Their dance. His apology on Kobol. His lips touching hers as a tender goodbye when they both thought she would die.

His support. His smile. His flirting.

And then, one of his hands on her hips. Caressing her. His eyes melting with hers, bonding with her soul – seeking access to a place she had never welcomed anyone to but him.

Laura closed her eyes, recalling the moan she hadn't been able to suppress at his tenderness.

She knew that she loved him.

Never more than in that moment.

Her heart was beating in her throat, and she felt an army of butterflies invading her stomach.

She hadn't felt like that in ages – and at the same time, she understood, that he stirred feelings in her she had never felt before.

Feelings buried so deep inside of her – feelings safely locked away for the only person who would know where to look for the key.

_Love._

She was in love with him.

And hearing his words, the softness of his deep voice, reassuring her that he shared her emotion – it overcame her like a shock wave after a refreshing thunderstorm on Caprica.

_I love you._

_Oh, Bill. Don't you know by now? I don't just open my heart so easily. That's where we are most alike. _

Laura threw her head back into her pillow, fighting both the recent memories and the mixed feelings those memories brought up.

_Love._

It was the worst of possible moments to find love now.

She didn't have time for this.

She didn't have the energy for this.

She was the President of the 12 Colonies of Kobol, or whatever was left of it.

Her personal life would have to be an understudy for the survival of humanity. There was no question about that.

Her heart would have to deal with her role of leader.

_Frak,_ even her health had to deal with that!

_And, Bill – how dare you put my emotional stability in jeopardy!_

_I was so strong. I dealt with so much._

_And it was alright to be alone._

_Don't do this to me now. Please!_

_Don't make me rely on you._

_As if it wasn't bad enough already that I trust you so deeply that it hurts sometimes. So deeply that I forget that I end somewhere and you begin – that we're not a unity, that we are not one._

_That I've gotten used to you. That I'm beginning to see that I'm losing myself in you. That I'm committing myself to you, that I know what you are going to say before you even think it. _

_That you make me laugh. That you make me cry. And that you are, already, a part of my life I couldn't miss any longer._

_Oh my Gods, Bill. _

Laura frowned.

Her eyes closed, she saw his face again, delivering his soul to her. His heart opening up for her, inviting her in, allowing her to see his vulnerability and his wounds.

Forgetting about his pride, trusting her, lowering his shields for her.

His fingers, softly caressing her hips and her waist – sending shivers down her spine.

Another moan.

And her eyes drifting shut at the gentleness and the respect she absorbed from his touch.

_Oh no, Bill. Don't go there – please!_

_Don't unwrap the passionate side of me. _

_I'm begging you. _

_I threw away the key when I took those vows, and I never intended that you would find it._

_Please, don't! _

_Don't make me suffer through lonely nights. Nights of dreams of you and me. Nights of yearning and lusty images._

_Don't make me long for you like that. You have no idea how dangerous this might be._

She shook her head again, in frenzy.

_I won't kiss you and let go._

_Bill, I am a sensual woman. Don't unlock that woman in me! I won't be able to bury her again when you're around._

_I will struggle._

_I will sweat._

_I will flirt._

_So, I'm really begging you – don't open the box of Pandora if you're not willing to accept the consequences._

Laura sat up, her body soaked in perspiration – ambivalence mirrored in her face.

She checked the alarm clock to see that it was 1.24am – she was lying awake now since more than 2 hours.

That was exactly what she was afraid of – he was distracting her thoughts.

So she pushed her blanket to the side and refreshed herself in the bathroom. Grabbing the next best piece of clothing to wrap her tired bones in, she made a quick call and hurried to her presidential viper.

It was there that she noticed that she was wearing _that dress_ again.

She cursed to herself and rolled her eyes while she boarded the viper, her mind focused on their dinner a couple of hours ago.

When she stepped through his hatch again, locking it behind her to avoid unwelcome interruptions, she found him at his desk.

A glass of Ambrosia standing on the desk, he held a frame in his hands. He stared at the picture, his mind absorbed in whatever was shown on it.

She approached him, silently – the absence of shoes on her feet increasing the muffled sounds she made.

When she turned around to have a glimpse of the picture he was lost in thoughts over, she was flattered to see that it was a picture of her.

And his left hand, holding the picture, was missing the wedding ring he had worn since the day she had met him.

Laura smiled.

And she moved her hands to his, carefully guiding the left one down to put the picture on the desk before she nestled down on his lap.

Seeing a mixture of hurt feelings, surprise and irritation in the deepness of his blue, she locked her gaze with his for a moment before she leaned in to invite him to a passionate kiss.

Their tongues finding a perfect rhythm and common ground, she broke from their kisses just long enough to assure him of what he needed to hear the most.

_I love you, Bill. _

And the smile she felt on her lips and skin in response was the closest thing to absolution she had ever imagined to feel.


	19. Some Mornings

**Disclaimer:** BSG is not mine - I lost that bid on Ebay... **Pairing:** A/R_._

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**Some Mornings**

Laura was sitting on her makeshift bed – her bones were aching. Another sleepless night, and another early wakeup call that had ripped her right out of the blissful moment of dozing off again. She had already felt it – a pleasant dream, enveloping her tired mind, putting her at ease and relaxing her muscles.

Ring. Rrrrrring. Rrring.

_Who the frak... _She paused. _oh, Bill – it could be Bill_. So she forced her eyes to open and reached for the receiver, suppressing the yawn that threatened to overshadow her controlled "Yes?".

It was Tory. _Great. Could as well have slept through that phone call_, Laura thought to herself while she tried to grasp her aides words at the earliness of the day.

"What did you just say?" Laura was suddenly wide awake. "He did what?" She frowned. "You gotta be kidding me."

Baltar – _that frakhead of an ex-President. Believed he was the savior of mankind now_ – _him, of all people_. She shook her head. _Sometimes I wish I had his talent of self-deception_. And she sighed.

"Okay. So what do you suggest now, Tory. Our no-comment policy doesn't seem to work anymore."

Laura nodded as she listened to her aide – her plans to ignore his preaching and public displays of lies and defamation even after weeks and weeks. She rolled her eyes, knowing exactly that a comment was what Baltar wanted most of all. A comment from the President of the Colonies – a comment he could turn against her while using it as a public acknowledgment of his crusade.

She would deny him that – she had sworn that to herself. She would not give him the pleasure to tickle the aversion she felt for him out of her on public ground. She would choke it down – she would control it. Even if it meant that it would kill her.

"Alright, Tory. But I don't want the military to get involved in this either. This shouldn't be displayed on that high a level at all." She rolled her eyes in annoyance when her lips started to produce the words her mind forced her to utter.

"Don't you think this might be the perfect task for our VP? I'm sure he still has plenty connections to get Baltar to shut up in the long run."

Laura chuckled. "Of course I didn't suggest Tom to hire a hitman. C'mon, Tory – next thing you imply is that I asked Bill to punch his nose last week."

A devilish grin traveled over the President's lips at the mere thought of Bill having anything to do with that _accident_ on Galactica. She had chosen to believe his vows of innocence, and closely followed his investigation. It really seemed to be true after all that Baltar had tripped and smashed against a bulkhead – and if she was honest, she didn't really care to know what he had tripped over in the first place.

Things like that had happened to Baltar before – so why should this incident be any different. Okay, yes – he had insulted her only hours before that – in a speech he had given on the hangar deck against Bill's exact orders to keep religious preaching off his ship. Baltar had actually threatened her – had put her life in the hands of his followers, openly asking them to start a revolution and kill the leader who was misleading them.

Laura frowned again – the hatred upsetting her unrested bones.

"Alright, Tory. Please talk to Tom. I will talk to the Admiral." She hung up and stretched her limbs. _Well, another breakfast that would result in a lengthy philosophical discussion and a heated debate. But wasn't it interesting to see which side he would chose this time?_ She smiled to herself and got up.

An hour and a far too careful examination in sickbay later, she was sitting in Bill's quarters and enjoyed an algae muffin and a cup of Chamalla-enhanced tea.

"So, what do you think?"

"Seriously?" Bill looked at her from the other end of the table. "I don't know. The audacity and delusions of that man are challenging my thinking."

Laura giggled. "Oh yes, I know that feeling." And she took another muffin. "But ignoring him doesn't seem to work. So, I ask again, what do we do?"

Bill, amused about seeing her eat the third awful muffin in a row, shrugged. "Well, there's always the option of getting your VP involved. I bet he still has his ways of getting rid of undesired people."

Laura swallowed her muffin and controlled her laughter long enough not to spit her breakfast all over his table. "Oh please, Bill – tell me you didn't just say that."

"Oh, and I meant it alright." Bill was sincere.

"Wasn't it you who once lectured me for becoming too bloody minded?" She mocked him.

"Well, I guess I'm beginning to see your point."

"Oh, do you?" She giggled some more. "How did that happen?"

"Well," Bill got up to massage her stiff neck. "I guess that comes with the job."

"I thought we agreed on our personal lives not to interfere with our professional ones."

"Indeed, we did." Bill answered her in a low voice before he placed a soft kiss onto her neck. "Do you seriously believe that this Admiral will lean back and watch how that fanatic tries to start a revolution and stir agitation in the fleet?"

Laura sighed – her voice giving away the struggle Laura the woman fought against Laura the President while his lips vibrated against her skin. "No, I don't. But we got to be careful."

"I know." Bill soothed himself rather than her. "This might be a conflict of interest, but I will not allow this man to get anywhere near you, Laura. As much as this fleet needs you as their President, I need you more."

And he turned her around to meet her for a deep kiss – the sincerity of his words lying heavy on his heart. When she broke their kiss, he knew that she understood – but he also saw the doubt. "This, Bill...", she almost stuttered. "This cannot get out of hand."

"I know, we also agreed on that." Bill mumbled before he lifted her up from her chair to meet him for another kiss.

Her eyes closed, Laura broke their kiss once more – her hands on his chest, her heart long betraying her. "We have to separate Bill and Laura from..."

"...from the Admiral and the President. I know." Bill agreed with her when he lifted her up in his arms.

"But this is putting Bill and Laura before the Admiral and her President." Laura gasped at the tender grip of his arms around her waist and legs.

"We're still off duty, Laura." He kissed her again. "And I'm just seeing to it that Laura continues to fit into her clothes."

She giggled. "Three muffins, I know."

"Yes, exactly. Three muffins, and new bruises from your weekly examination. That calls for some lovemaking, don't you think?" He grinned.

Shaking her head, Laura giggled some more and refused the urge to enjoy a lengthy banter with him – after all, his kisses were promise enough for her that Bill wanted to make her happy. And for the first time in years, Laura allowed herself the luxury of being happy after all.


	20. Behind Closed Doors

**Disclaimer:** Laura Roslin isn't mine, and neither is BSG. **Characters:** Roslin/Adar.

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**Behind Closed Doors**

She's the quiet one in meetings, the listener who gives helpful advice when spoken to, the one who doesn't speak unless it's important, who's calm and takes notes. She's a nurturer, loves to solves things for the best of both parties, takes care of those around her and loves to talk with her hands. It's her hands Richard first notices in a class room full of four-year-olds. Then her voice, so soft and rich, and her eyes, emerald green, sparkling from across the room. It's her ideas that make him hire her – her mind too precious to be lost for his campaign. She's the kind who works hard, who stays late and doesn't mind long hours. She never complains. She gets coffee for the staff or cake, puts away glasses when the interns are long gone, has a desk that's chaotic but always finds what's needed. She's the kind he doesn't want to miss in the background, the kind who doesn't want to share the limelight. She's committed and has her way of getting others involved. She can talk, can make someone feel appreciated, finds excuses when there are none. It is her calmness that eases down discussions, it is her smile that breaks the ice.

It is one of those endless discussions at the office that makes him notice how quiet she is. Passing him a note, she saves his butt in a meeting with financiers – she is also discrete. When he thanks her she says you're welcome and looks directly in his eyes. It's the way she smiles that has his eyes linger on her. It's that combination of shy and playful that makes him ask. Dinner, would she care to stay?

It's Piconese they share – he brings wine, she dessert. Another smile. She is so different around him now. The way she laughs when he tells her a story over wine, embarrassing once for him, it tickles these sounds out of her throat, low and hoarse, he cannot get enough of it. Laugh lines around her eyes, her cheeks blushed from the wine – his mind sees Laura now, not a campaign assistant. He toasts to her to thank her again, for her help and the advice - she nods, doesn't know what to say and smiles some more. It's an evening of many that follow. All-nighters at the office, more of her ideas, food and wine. There comes a day when he falls asleep next to her on the couch - it is comfortable to have her so close. During primary season he hugs her for the first time, his hands tempted to travel all over her but he resists. It is she who places a soft kiss onto his cheeks when they win a pivotal race. I know you could do it – she believes in him.

There are more nights with staffers and then those alone. The scent of her so alluring to him now, he holds her close when she falls asleep on the couch beside him. When she wakes, he feels that she doesn't want him to let go. With the primaries won, they finally kiss. Her lips so soft, the taste of her so haunting, it's hard for him to concentrate on anything the following day. When he kisses her again, her tenderness turns into passion and he closes his eyes when her fingers open his belt to massage his groin. His eyes open again when he feels her mouth closing around him – so innocent her face, so sinful her mouth.

Laura likes to give him pleasure, behind closed doors. There's always a place and a moment. It's after the inauguration that he bends her over the desk in his office to return the favor. Pushing inside of her, she cries out his name and trembles under his touch. Her body so responsive to his needs, his lips so hungry for the taste of her. Hotel rooms is what follows. Her in his bed for some hours or a night – he loves to see her naked, her body so beautiful in its imperfection. She is still shy with him at times, still the quiet one in meetings – it is seductive how she changes behind doors locked or closed. Sensual in the way she moves, everything but innocent when she goes on her knees to please him. Richard loves to bury his hands in her hair, loves to feel her half on top of him when she sleeps and cannot help but touch her when she's close to him. She is his lover – so much more than the cliché suggests. It is she who gets him through a day, it is she he cannot wait to see. They find a cover story for all the time they spend together. It is a story with no calculated end.

When he decides to run for President, he seeks her opinion first, values her advice – she has always been so much more than just a good frak. When he enters his new office for the first time, it is she who is close behind him, his shadow some staffers say. No one suspects her to be more than his sisterly friend. He welcomes her lap dance in the chair so big it seems to be made for affairs in the office. He likes to call it that when she is on top to rock him and gives the pace. She is his Secretary of Education now, she's been with him for so many years. Respected she is, a loner – such a gem for him as President, such a treasure for him in bed.

It is easy to make love to her during the day but then it isn't – at least he doesn't think it is anymore. She has her doubts but he has that way of talking her into staying – how could he possibly continue without her by his side? She is his relief, his break, his drug – he lives on her and what she gives him. Love.

There was a time when he wondered if she loved him, funny enough he knew she did when she tried to leave. She loves him, however hard she's fighting not to. Loves his hands on her waist, fondling her to get into her skirt – loves how he makes her want him and despises him for that power over her. She can't say no to him, he can't deny her a wish she makes or a plea.

It his hardest for him when they fight. She has that way of quiet rebellion, of showing him that she disapproves, of giving him a chance to reconsider what he said. It drives him mad sometimes, especially when she is right. Making up with her is heaven though – the way her eyes give away how much she cares for him, the first smile that dances around her lips when he says something funny to make her laugh, the way she places her hand on his chest to do both, keep him close and away. He loves how she pretends to not care when he nuzzles her, how she suppresses her moans until her body betrays her when his fingers inflame her skin. He loves the goosebumps on her arms, the red spots on her cleavage and the way her eyes go wide as if she was on dope. He never rushes her into forgiving him – it's mostly him who screws things up, so he knows the routine. He seduces her, makes love to her as if it was their first time, explores her body, every little wrinkle, every hidden spot. She smells so good on his fingers, under his touch.

He gets to act out his kinky side when she's the one who asks for forgiveness, he never takes advantage of it though. Loving her means to enjoy giving her pleasure, she taught him that. So he asks her what she likes, tells her what he's dreaming of and thanks her for acting out his fantasies. She loves to flirt with him now that he's President, enjoys the sound of his title on her lips before she goes down on him or invites him to love her against the wall. She can be wicked like that and sincere only minutes later. Her skirt back in place, hair fixed within seconds, she switches in and out of professional with him. He loves her for her focus, loves how she foresees situations to be too dangerous to make love, loves how she loses herself in the moment with him when they are safe and alone. She makes him understand what love is. The commitment and the trust – so strange to realize she does.

It's the love that complicates things, the way he aches for her now when she's gone, the way she looks at him when he cannot stay. It's been a decade and he still wants more of her. He sometimes wonders if it is the taste of sin that makes him want her so – when he sees her smile at him he knows it isn't true.

He never meant to fall in love. He thought he had until she happened. Her emotions often locked away on the outside, she is so full of them when the doors hiss shut. Never dramatic, always controlled, it is love alone that makes her fall. He is her weakness, breaks her will to remain in control, asks for so much of her without speaking a single word. She yearns for him, gives up parts of herself she never dreamed of leaving behind. She forgets time when she is with him, forgets where she ends and he begins. It's not a choice. She hates politics, wants out, convinces herself that she will but then she stays. Always does, for him.

There comes a day when they cross the line, emotions mix with politics – it is unclear who started it. They fight. It is she who leaves, it is him who stays – they suffer both. When she returns to him, he closes the door behind her to have Laura with him instead of Secretary Roslin. She's in his arms before she knows it, scolds herself for it and tells him so. He understands, has missed her too and simply holds her for a while. It is a knock that should disturb the tenderness. It doesn't – he keeps her close. Not now, he shakes his head. It is then that Laura knows his priorities have changed.

It is still her with him behind closed doors but it is also him with her when they are open.


	21. Caprican Visions

**Disclaimer:** BSG is still not mine. And I was given this as an "assignment", or better a challenge, back in the days when BSG was still on the air. **Warning:** Odd pairing, A/R/C/Ellen - LoL.

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**Caprican Visions**

Laura moaned. The stiffness of her neck and the headache from her cancer treatment overwhelmed her. _Frakking Demerol_, she growled, _makes me feel like 120_.

Leaning back on the sterile med bed, she closed her eyes to welcome a wave of blissful slumber. Lights, flashing before her eyes, let her know that a vision would interrupt her nap – but she had long given up on fighting the pictures.

Disturbing at first, it was still too much to say that she had gotten used to her prophecies – but she had grown accustomed to seeing things. Even if it meant in the most impossible of situations.

It was less disconcerting for her to be enveloped by flashes of pictures and circles of lights in the middle of a quorum meeting or a one-on-one with her VP. What was bothering her more now was that her visions had begun to entangle in her dreams – and she had blushed on more than one occasion when Bill Adama or Tory Foster had rang her out of a particularly juicy one.

A fact that Laura had learned to embrace was the presence of people that she knew – irritating her at first, she had found a way to interpret their appearance as a subconscious marker of the reality of her visions and as a way of her mind to represent different kinds of emotions.

When she was surrounded by light once more, she was not surprised to find herself on a planet. She had been there before. And she knew that it was not the Earth they were looking for – it was a planet long lost and a mixture of wishful thinking and memories from another lifetime.

Caprica.

Laura blinked her eyes when she found herself sitting on fresh green grass. Spring.

Spring on Caprica had been her favorite season – the sun warm already, flowers starting to blossom and humming birds embellishing the scenery.

It had never been a cheesy image like that of course back in the real days on Caprica – but her memory liked to bring it back to her just like that. Colorful. Intense. Warm.

Laura felt the grass between her naked toes and the sun tickling her nose. She closed her eyes for the shortest of moments, just to open them again at the sound of approaching footsteps.

Bill.

She knew it was him even before she was able to see his face. She smiled.

"There you are. I've been looking for you all over," he said in a husky voice and sat down next to her. Moving his hand into her hair, he pulled her into a lingering kiss – just like he had on so many nights in so many visions.

Her smile broadened as he parted from her, just to make sure she snuggled closer to him in his arms.

"What are you doing here, all by yourself? It's Colonial Day."

Bill began to caress her softly, distracting her mind from the answer she was about to give.

Switching places with her and lying her down on the grass, ever so gently and with a touch that was light enough to raise goosebumps on every fiber of her being, Bill pulled her into another kiss that left no doubt about the realness of her dream. Feeling his arousal against her blushing skin, she giggled when he began to undress her.

When she lay exposed to him, draped on a blanket like a special dessert after dinner, she welcomed his eagerness to join her bare. Helping him undress for her, she barely noticed the other pair of feet that tiptoed closer – and she found herself surprised to find Doctor Cottle standing next to them within the blink of an eye.

Whispering something into Bill's ear, he smiled at her and felt her pulse. Nodding that what he found running in her veins pleased him, he placed a soft kiss onto Bill's cheek before he turned around to take a seat a short distance from them.

Unable to voice her irritation, Laura found another visitor entering the scene – Ellen Tigh.

Dressed in her red New Caprican dress, Laura looked up to her and the ice-cream cones in her hands. Nodding to Bill, Ellen knelt down and began to drop the scoops on Laura's naked form, leaning in to lick them off immediately.

Laura – her mind too fogged by the sensations that rocked through her body – moaned Bill's name more as a plea than a question. And she allowed herself to fall into the moment when his mouth began to free her from the sticky chocolate and vanilla as well.

Jumping from the reality of her vision back to sickbay, Laura felt cold air surrounding her blushed cheeks. Suppressing a frustrated gasp, she looked around to find Doctor Cottle looking at her in quiet concern.

"Are you alright, young lady," he asked while feeling her pulse.

Collecting herself, Laura swallowed the need to release her dissatisfaction. She nodded.

"I'm fine, thanks," almost shrugging him off.

"Didn't I frakking tell you to cut back on the Chamalla?" Cottle mumbled while he left her to a regular visitor by her side - Admiral Adama.

Shooting him a _whatever_ look while fighting off the drip in her arm, she looked up to meet Bill's eyes.

Steadying her voice, she whispered a dismissive, "Don't even ask." in his direction while she got up. Securing her shaky steps, Adama decided to accept her explanation for the moment and waved for Cottle not to follow them.

Leading her to his quarters, Bill made sure she rested on the couch and brought her a cup of tea. Placing his hand on her arm, he felt the distance of her mind in the absence of her physical reaction to him – and he waited.

Laura, back on Caprica – surrounded by sunlight and warmth felt the kisses of his tired mouth on her neck. Her back pressed against his chest, her legs entwined with his – a blanket comforting them, their breaths steadying.

She looked over to the trees where Cottle was sitting still. He smiled.

It wasn't a smug smile – it was rather sad. And Laura crooked herself up on her elbow to look him in the eye. Unable to speak, she was startle when Ellen stepped between her and the doctor, blocking the sun and her view.

"Get up, Prophet. It is time to go." Ellen spoke to her in a calm voice, reaching out her hand.

Laura shook her head, refusing to leave the safety of Bill's arms.

"It is time." Ellen almost whispered. "He knows."

Laura, suddenly standing, took Ellen's hand and turned around. Dressed in her New Caprican dress now, she saw Bill crying in Cottle's arms.

"Do not try to dry the tears that will come. It is a waste of energy and time." Ellen led her away.

"Look, Prophet. Look around you." Ellen moved her hands around to point to the beauty of the planet called Caprica. "This is your home."

Laura, inhaling the freshness of the Caprican air felt the wind dancing around her body.

"This is where you will spend the rest of your days." Ellen's voice was soft. "This is where you will return to."

And she waved her hand once to show a distant picture of the day of Laura's birth. And she waved her hand once more to show her when she skipped a day of school to have ice-cream by the river. And with yet another wave of her hand, a blurry picture of her college graduation appeared.

_Stop_ was what Laura wished to shout when memories of her life were waved in front of her, one after the other, but her voice was still lost to her.

Crying silent tears, Laura saw Bill on New Caprica with her – sleeping under the stars, sandbags serving as their bed for a romantic night. And she smiled – her tears drying when she saw pictures unknown to her eyes but true to her heart. Bill and her, together on Colonial One – their wedding day. His smile outshining hers, her happiness evident in her eyes.

Smiling at the prospect of her vision, Laura saw the darkness in the picture to come. And instead of tears she saw light enveloping everybody but herself – and she understood.

Jumping back to reality, Laura closed her eyes – a single tear threatening to will itself down her cheek. Bill, concerned to see her shaken but calm, took her hand in his and asked his silent question of _what is wrong_.

Opening her eyes to melt with his, she smiled one of her rarest smiles for him and leaned in to place a soft kiss onto his lips.

"Will you marry me?"

Her words were barely above a whisper but serious and steady. Bill, not flinching or moving away from her look, answered in a low voice that matched her volume with a frog in his throat.

"What did you see?"

Her smile broadening at his acceptance of her visions, she shook her head – not hastily or stubborn, but carefully so. "Will you marry me?"

Taking in her words again, his smile was sad and almost as rare as hers.

"You will die." It was a statement, rather calm than controlled.

"You will find Earth." Her voice was soothing and sweet.

Bill felt the tears dwelling up and he swallowed his pride. Bringing his hand to her cheek, he pulled her into another kiss – less soft, more desperate but tender – and he whispered his _yes_ onto her neck when he started to nuzzle her. Losing the fight against their desperation, they chose the only way to cope with her visions now – and they sought comfort in the presence of the other, kissing away the pain, opening doors to feelings long locked away.

When Laura lay in his arms that night, she saw Ellen Tigh again – a soft smile on her lips.

"It is time, Prophet. It is time to embrace your destiny."

And she reached out her hand once more to show her a planet – green and rich, blue and wide, red and sunny. "Lead them home, Prophet. It is time for all of you to go home."


	22. Done With Subtle

**Disclaimer:** The BSG characters are still not mine. **Characters:** A/R.

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**Done With Subtle**

Bill returned from CIC, smiling at the sight of her shoes right next to the hatch. He had offered her the comforts of a decent bathroom, _his_ bathroom, after the reconstructions on Colonial One had turned out to take longer than expected. She had rejected his generous offer at first, pretending that her bathroom situation wasn't as bad as he seemed to imagine. But, eventually she had agreed to use his _recreation facilities_, as she liked to refer to his shower and to his kitchen, a place she had made her territory as soon as she had set foot in his quarters.

When he entered his quarters he stopped being Admiral Adama, allowing himself to just be Bill, pouring himself a drink to calm down, and made himself feel at home. He had been a little on edge when she had used his rooms for the first time. His imagination playing tricks with his mind at the mere sound of the water running in his shower, knowing that she was all bare and natural underneath it. He had learned to cope with it after a week or two. He had started to prepare dinner, to go through files, to read. Sometimes, he found a set table when he came in. Two plates, two glasses of wine and a smile on her lips when he was early. She had made herself feel at home. And his heart had long begun to ache when she left him alone for the night, heading back to Colonial One.

Today, the shift on CIC had been a quiet. He was comparably relaxed, very much looking forward to a calm dinner and some witty discussion with Laura Roslin.

His drink in one hand, he walked over to his rack and pulled off his jacket, trying to switch off the duty mode. He had become used to seeing her as Laura in the safe environment of his quarters. Laura, plain and simple, no Presidency attached. And he indulged in the way she had grown accustomed to kid around with him in the privacy of his home.

When Bill put his jacket on his neatly made bed, he discovered her clothes on it. Noticing that the shower had been switched off since he had entered the bedroom, he turned around to head back to his living area. It was then that he saw her standing in the frame of the bathroom door. Her body wrapped in one of his towels, she leaned against the frame, studying him.

Bill, a gentleman to his bones, tried to cover the pleased smile that threatened to creep to his mouth. It was too late. His eyes betrayed him already, a joyful sparkle beaming from them, giving away the gratitude he felt for the standard size of Galactica's towels. He had often grumbled about those towels being too small, a thought he reconsidered the very instant he had the pleasure to enjoy seeing Laura Roslin being wrapped in one of them. Her curves revealed to him through the tightness of the material that was tugged around her body, her perfectly formed hips and butt merely covered by the off-whitish terry cloth. Her thighs, toned and intoxicating, adorable knees and perfect calves, a sight he was used to drooling over in the secrecy of his mind.

He cleared his throat, his eyes slowly working their way up to her face again, taking in every shimmering inch of her glistening body. Her hair, hanging loose on her shoulders, curly and wet, framed the natural beauty of her face. She wore an amused grin on her lips, her eyes dancing, enjoying his stare.

"Bill, if I asked you to do me a favor, would you consider it?" She said with an innocent voice.

"Of course." He returned, clearing his throat again, focusing on her eyes.

"No questions asked?" Laura was astonished.

"I know you wouldn't stretch the line." He said respectfully.

She chuckled. "Wouldn't I? Well, you do recall the time when I asked you to kill off your superior officer, don't you?"

"Are you trying to scare me?" Bill raised one of his eyebrows to mock her.

Her chuckle grew into a giggle. "No, I was just trying to make a point."

"Your point being...?" He tried to meet her bemusement.

Laura smiled at him, her eyes playfully darkened for a moment. Then she paused, her face easing from amused to tender.

"Would you make love to me?"

Bill's heart missed a beat at the sound of her words. "What?"

His reaction hardly beyond a whisper, the word wasn't really a question.

She had caught him off guard. She had had that way with him before, but never like that.

"Would you make love to me?" Laura repeated quietly, the expression on her face somewhere between vulnerable and seductive.

Bill took in a deep breath when she moved closer to him, looking into his eyes like a cat on the hunt. He swallowed hard when she moved her arms around his neck and waist, pulling him into her for a deep kiss.

Not knowing where to put his hands, surprised by the feeling of her body pressing against his, however, soon he wrapped his arms around her, enjoying the maddening sensation of actually being in contact with her curvy body. Their kiss, longing and tender at first, grew into a variety of passionate ones, their tongues dancing to the beat of the matching rhythm they found.

When they broke their kiss for the shortness of some laboured breaths, he smiled at her with lusty eyes when he felt her hands tugging at his shirt in a desperate attempt to get it out of the way. He helped her remove it, his eyes following the slow motion speed of his towel sliding down her body, inch by intoxicating inch.

She grinned, flattered by his adoring glare, and tugged at his belt.

He chuckled when he felt the impatience in her touch, her hands shaking slightly in anticipation of the step they were about to take after all. He helped her with his trousers, nuzzling at her ears, whispering. "I always knew that you wanted to get into my pants."

She chuckled, her voice low and husky. She took the liberty of enjoying the sight of him in his briefs as soon as he had stepped out of his uniform trousers. She moved her hands to his chest, caressing his skin with a firm, heated touch while licking the inside of her lips. The sight of him in those tight red boxers would haunt her for days to come, she was certain about it already. Wishing to indulge in the view for a little longer, she moved closer to the bed with him, lowering herself on his lap when he lay down. She moved her hands over his skin, her touch soft or demanding, driving him close to madness.

He moaned her name when she started to kiss his neck, his hands exploring the silkiness of her skin. Desperately wishing to enjoy the view of her in control of him, he lost the struggle against his own body. His eyes drifted shut, his lips forming into a pleasurable smile that almost tugged up behind his ears. He felt how she slowed down her pace when she kissed the length of his scar. She kissed her way up again, when she felt his hands urging her to do so. She raised her head, meeting him for another passionate kiss while he switched positions with her to repay her tender administrations.

She giggled in a way he had never heard before. It was a hoarse kind of giggle, seductive and low, spurring him on. His hands enflaming her heart, waking a side she had carefully locked away for the duration of her presidency, worked their way up and down her sensitive body. His kisses increased her longing to merge with him, and she began to move her hands to those kinky little briefs of his, tugging them off.

Bill, eager to comply with her wish to speed things up a little, enjoyed the sound of his name on her lips. The way she buried her head in his pillow, her face being framed by the darkness of her hair – it made him want her all the more. Fondling her breasts while pulling her into another ardent kiss, he sought her approval to join with her. Reassuring her of his love, she moaned her bliss against his skin, indulging in the feeling of being one with him after all.

They moved in unison to seek their moment of perfection and fulfillment with each other, finding a rhythm that matched the intensity of the situation. When he felt the waves of pleasure washing over her body, arching up against him, tightening and releasing around him, he lost himself in her, and collapsed in her exhausted arms.

They remained entangled for a while, enjoying their closeness. Laura placed tired kisses onto his sweaty hair, moving on top of him when he moved onto his back.

Bill smiled, lazily, reaching for his blanket to keep them from getting cold. He caressed her back and hips, enjoying the tender kisses her lips placed against his neck and cheeks. She chuckled in between kisses when he tickled her, she whispered, "So, I take this as a yes."

He released a puzzled sigh, inviting her to kiss him before answering his implied question.

"I asked you earlier if you would do me a favor. Remember?" She giggled.

And Bill met her giggles, indulging in the feeling of her quivering body against his.

"Any time, Laura. Any time."

Laura, burying her face in his neck, cuddling up with him, didn't have to look up at him to know that the bemused sparkle in his eyes had just turned into a devilish one, and that the favor she had asked from him before would be repeated without any complaints or questions asked. The favor Laura Roslin had playfully asked from William Adama, would be one to be exchanged between Laura and Bill only from now on. And she was very much looking forward to it, realizing that they were, after all, done with subtle.


End file.
